MaXiMuM rIdE: rUnNaWaY
by MysteriousWingedShadow
Summary: Max and the flock don't have wings. They never went to the school. Max was grown up abused, and ran away. So what happens when she goes to Arizona is a foster home in Arizona when her dads in jail and her mothers dead. Familiar and new faces occur.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: I have a tingly sensation. My first authors note in my first story -sigh- lets just hope I don't epically fail.**

…

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**Yep…**

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**Aw screw it, lets keep this thing moving. **

Max's POV 

There are a lot of ways I could go with this. I could tell you about my life before now. Or maybe, just hope you can keep up with out an explanation. But I want to know so you don't have to ask questions later, thus wasting time. So I'm just going to give you my thoughts right now. Just going to imagine I didn't do this little introduction.

So, here goes nothing.

Damn. Damn the fucking world. I wish hell would come and burn the world so I could watch everyone burn and die. So I can hear them scream and run from inevitable, so I can listen to their torture and pain. Now _that _thought brightened my mood.

Sick.

Maybe.

But true all the same.

I feel better getting that anger out, but I'm still pissed off, if you where me, you would be to.

Yeah before you all go OMZ!, and screech like a teenage girl that just got seduced by Robert Pattinson let me elaborate.

Okay, I'm Max and I'm 15, almost, and I'm on the run. And I mean _on the run_ as in _runaways, _not a runner or whatever. Just thought Id make that clear. Back to the subject.

My birth wasn't exactly 'wanted', and by that I mean my mom and Jeb both hate me. I guess I have to do this. Jeb is my dad, or more commonly known as, the jackass who ruined my life (which, by the way, is pretty crappy). My moms a scientist, but don't let the fact that she makes lots of cash blind you from her bitchiness. I hate her, she hates me, we're a hating family. Now Jeb, he doesn't deserved to be talked about, but he plays a important role in my life. How you may ask? Well, I'll try to fill you in. He just simply hates me. He abused me and got drunk, and refused to work. _Apparently _I was a waste of space, who had a attitude problem. And my pathetic excuse of a mom had to work 24-7, money or Jeb. How freaking tough, huh? I'm not sure when the abusing started really, everything when I was younger is unclear. I don't know which is real, which is a nightmare, but I always know when it's a dream because something good happens. Jeb is just to Jeb to be a good person. I think of the word Jeb as a curse word, but it would could kind of lame to use it when you curse someone out

(Like 'Your such a Jeb', then everyone turns to stare at you) He rarely spent time with my mom, and only stayed around was for the money, and maybe me (hitting me was probably one of the only things that brought joy to his life). It was pretty obvious he was using her, but whenever I brought it up, she would start bitching at me. What a wonderful women, I love her so much I just want to stab something. I honestly didn't know where we lived, like I said, I don't remember much of my childhood. But I put up with everything. Until one day Jeb crossed the line. The fucking bastard _raped _me. When I was _11. _Now I feel like killing something. Deep breaths. Deep breaths. Now I'm pissed off all over again. Grrr…who the heck _rapes _their _own daughter_. I just want to rip his head off and beat it like an piñata. Cue growl. 1...2...3...1...2...3..in…out..in..out. Okay, I'm good. Later, after years of hell, I got freedom, even if I got do stuff on my own. But now its ruined. Don't worry, I'll get to that part later. So for five years I've been living life as a runaway in New York. Not such a bad place, once you get used to people and the robbers won't mess with you, 'cause you could kick your ass. Foods usually available in the dumpster or a garbage can, but sometimes you can just rob some food from a stand. Well, you can if you know how to pick a lock, and fast before someone notices you and calls the cops. But even though, people usually wouldn't care if you where robbing them, like not yours not your problem. Nether less, some runaways or robbers get caught by some sort of saint or cop. In this part of New York, its like every person for themselves. If you trust someone you'll end up with a knife in your back, I would know. But that's another story for another day. -Sigh- Anyways. Me and most of the runaways live in this part of New York, and despite living here for 5 years, I don't know where in New York I am. But honestly, does it matter? Like someone walks up to you and says, "Hey! You! If you tell me where the hell I am, I wont beat the crap outta ya". No, disregard that, actually I can picture some drunk guy doing it. But most homeless people cant even afford drinks, I swear it pisses me off to no end that people assume drunks are homeless. Maybe because most of us look the same, skin dirty (and seriously, I don't feel like making sure your thoughts don't wander in a disgusting direction), hair has a dull tinge and slightly unhealthy look about it, baggy and worn clothes, hair kind of a mess (don't need to make it **to** obvious do we?), and the earthy scent. And the 'earthy scent' isn't like the 'amazing, outdoors, nature' crap, that people manage to have, I mean the _real _isolated piece of Earth that no one cares about Earth. You know, the one that people look at and make a disgusted face and turn away pretending not to see you. Oh, and most of us are good runners, do to either running from cops, people, store owners, etc. or just naturally. I'm one of the few who are naturally, but I guess my minor 'robbery's' help. Most of are daily routines are get up, get food, get the hell outta there, sleep. Its pretty boring, but I mostly focus on my fighting skills (not that I need it). I practice with some others who like to keep up their strength, or some new runaways who need to learn the basics. They give me some food or supplies if I teach a newbie. And most people don't fight with me 'cause I usually win. Sometimes I head down to a bankrupt gym, who's owner is rarely they're (I think its because he's scared of we'll beat him up or something). I was actually headed to the gym when I got into this, uhhh… what's the word…uhh… oh I know, predicament! See? Even homeless people know big words. (We get offended when you people with homes assume we're stupid, you just might 'coincidentally' find your house on fire.)

Okay, I'm going to what could be 5 incredibly long sentences Into a short one. Just cause I don't want to give an _amazing detailed_ flashback. Some guy messed with me while I was walking to the gym. I mean it wouldn't have been so bad, but the guy was stubborn, arrogant, and to proud to get that I was kicking some serious ass. But I'm all those things to, just I'm _more _stubborn, arrogant, and proud. I might of gone to far, but he so deserved, like all the sexist pigs in the world. Cops came from God-knows-where and shoved us into separate cars. I might of 'assaulted' a few cops along the way. And here I am with my hands uncomfortably crossed behind my back, face pressed against the window. Who knew it was an _assault_ to push an officer. We homeless people don't know that. You think cops would get that.

But it was totally worth it when I saw the guys face when I finished beating his ass. ( I'm closing my eyes, picturing it)

See, most kids get excited over getting strait A's or whatever kids like nowadays. But I get excited over of injuring cops. Yep, nothing wrong with that. So now I'm just trying to make my face comfortable against the window with a cop pressing me against it. How freaking easy. Not. Mostly because the cops making sure I can't move my legs or anything. Stupid cops and their trust issues. I mean, what, do they want me to die from suffocation. I don't talk because they gave me the whole ' you-have-the-right-to-remain-silent-because-everything-you-say-will-be-used-against-you ' speech, and I already have done some stuff that earned me a good stay in jail for a while. I think. I really need to study up on crimes. I'm freaking claustrophobic! How so insensitive. And they call themselves cops. *Scoff*. Now I'm going to go to jail or some hellhole. Ugh. Stupid rules and society. Making my life suck worse then it already is. I notice one of the cops leans over me with something. I immediately tensed up, which he didn't seem to notice. Then I felt a pain in my arm, not to intense though, and felt dizzy. Everything became a blur and I felt my self fall into my sanctuary, where I escape life and its issues it forces upon me.

**A/N: So, I hoped you liked it. :D**

**It's late so if its bad at least I have that to blame, right?**

**I hope the ending wasn't to cliché. Review, express your opinion. There is more stuff that happened in her past that will com up later, which**_** clearly **_**I hinted at.**

**This isn't a one-shot so if you want me to continue it review. Reviewing is what all the cool kids are doing, you know you want to. Be tempted. And now press the little box that says review and leave a comment. Review is such a hard word to spell for me, but I'm spelling it for you 3. SO REVIEW! Do it for all the awesome things In the world. You are now reviewing. **

**Oh, I like people to threat in they're reviews, it makes me laugh. Sorry for the shortness, the next chapter will**

**be longer. I hope. Depends on how much reviews I get. Hint hint, and for all the stupid people that don't get it **

**FREAKING REVIEW AND I'LL MAKE THE NEXT CHAPTER LONGER AND BETTER! So, why are you still reading this when you should be reviewing! Suggestion welcome, criticism neglected. - J.B.**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Hey! Okay, I don't usually use !'s, but I'm to happy to care. I'm happy that people actually reviewed and it was **_**positive**_**. I swear I died of shock, okay not really. You guys made me so happy I'm starting to ramble on about stuff you couldn't care less about. Anyways, I reread the chapter and I don't know if it's just me, but it seemed kind of rushed. And I should have made being a runaway harder, ' cause in reality it's a lot harder. I think. But I'll try to work it in. Oh, and I was thinking about having Fang related to Max getting caught, but I want to make him more distance, you know, give him a mysterious era about him. But he'll show up. I'm going to start writing 'cause I'm starting to annoy myself.**

Max's POV

I woke up to being surrounded by cops. Just you typical morning. Well, I'm pretty sure they're cops, my visions all screwed up… then I noticed the pain in my head. Probably hit my head... But wha- "What the hell are you doing", I heard a voice say, interrupting my thoughts. I just blinked. Stupidly, I might add. Good job Max, way to add to the homeless image. I mean, not _all _homeless people are on drugs. Its such a stereotype. I closed my eyes briefly, then open them again. I processed what the voice said , (that sounds really stupid if you reread that sentence) and got angry. I took in the shape of three cops staring down at me, two guys and a female. "What?", I asked angrily, partly because of what the guy said, and partly because everyone's staring made me uncomfortable. I notice two other people, that aren't dressed like cops, but you never know, and it seemed as thought he was talking to a… cop? I just had time to notice him looking at the cop, before he swiftly looked at me, then back at the cops. The other guy was just standing there, no expression.

Now I wanted to laugh at the cops expressions, something I couldn't place and anger. But mostly anger. I realized that this guy is probably some higher authority. If only I could manage to hit one of 'em, when they weren't looking, but they might put me in jail or something…

Damn…

I don't think they're going to put me in jail, It's not like I committed a crime. I was defending myself. I gave him three chances, but he was to hocked up on drugs. Not my fault. What do they do to runaways anyways? Send them back to their parents? That would be pretty stupid. Maybe they found out about my parents abusing me? Maybe they locked them up in jail. But would that mean I would have to go to an orphanage…

"Get up", the cop growled without looking at me, taking me out of my thoughts, and did as told. What? I can be respectful when I want to. Look here's how I see it: if I say anything he'll get offended, I'll end up getting pissed, then I'll be in jail. Besides, I had a hunch the annoyance in his voice wasn't because of me. I guess I'm not the only one who doesn't like to be ordered around. I look at my surroundings,

and were near some police station. There aren't many people outside, and those who are don't pay attention to us, as if this was a normal thing. Nice to know. The place seems kind of dull, and old but not old at the same time. How is that possible? I don't know. I'm the one who hit my head. I see a police car next to us, and it seemed as though I fell out or something. I don't get cops. I decide to drop it because I got more important things to worry about. Maybe I could runaway once I get back to my 'home'… But I'd probably have to go somewhere else. Maybe Florida, the cold weather isn't my preference. Plus you have to worry about less things, like keeping cold, and plus they have beaches. That would be nice, and the weather, I can practically feel the sun…

Ugh, I need to focus, make a plan.

Ha, when have I ever had a plan?

Ugh.

Focus.

Right. I look at the cops and those two guys-who-I-don't-know-who-they-are and the two guys are talking with one of the officer, and the other two cops are watching me. Whatever. "Lets go", says one of the guys coolly, as if he's done this millions of times. Overconfident. He starts walking to the police station, with the other guy. One of the officers stays behind him, and says something to the other two, who go behind me. I want to roll my eyes, knowing it make them annoyed, but I don't. I just sigh and follow them. I'm so proud of myself, whoever adopts me is a lucky person. The inside looks more cleaner, and professional than the outside. "Sit there", the guy grumbles, pointing to a chair near the…what's it called… receptionist? Yeah! That's it. I sit there, and I wait.

After like 3 or 5 hours, a cop from earlier comes and tells me to follow him. Wow, it all happened so quickly. Just a couple of days ago I was sleeping in an alley, now I'm going to be sleeping in a foster care place. But no, we weren't headed to a foster home. They wanted me to talk to social workers. Ha! Like that's going to happen! Its so stupid, cause they say they understand. But if they understood, then they wouldn't have to ask why. Why I did what I did, why why why! I may have been homeless, but I'm sure as hell not stupid. They that if they say they understand, well explain. But if you understand, you have nothing to say. If you understood, you wouldn't have to be they're. Now I'm all mad because of stupid social workers. You cant trust anyone. About an hour passes before they let me go. I know they're mad because I don't say anything. But I don't care. I go back to my seat. Then someone comes in about thirty minutes later. It's a cop. "Come in here", he says before walking into a room near me. I sigh and get up, would it kill them to be nice? Well I guess I shouldn't be talking, but still. I walk in, and the room looks the same as the main office thing, but smaller with a desk. Oh, and people arguing. There two cops sitting calmly, one official person, who I learned is in charge, and two people I don't recognize. One is a women, who has blonde hair and brown eyes (This is suppose to be Anne Walker, but I don't know what the hell she looks like!), and a guy with brown hair and brown eyes. They stopped arguing when they noticed I came in. "Hello, Max", she said calmly and sat down in a chair, and the guy did the same. I raised an eyebrow, since when are the police nice to homeless people?

Well, ex-homeless people.

Whatever.

"Have a seat", she said. We sat there for a few uncomfortable minutes, not saying anything. "Why am I here", I ask finally, annoyance seeping through my voice. The lady seems surprised that I spoke and says, "We are deciding were you will be staying". I stay quiet for a minute, thinking of what to say. "What do you mean", I ask confused.

"Well, we found out about how your parents where abusive, and ,err, your father murdered your mom, and got away", she said uncomfortably, switching positions often. I felt myself get angry, not because my 'mother' died, because the jackass who killed her got away. A murder. My _father._

"How could you let him get away, what kind of cops are you!", I say standing up, ready to hit something/someone. The cops immediately tense, and their hands go to where I assume their guns are. I calm myself down and slowly sit back down, and I say "Where am I going?", I ask my voice holding no emotion. "As I said, we are currently deciding where to put you", she responds, careful not to say anything to provoke me. I sigh and rub my temples, trying to get rib of the headache forming. No one says anything for a minute, when the guy I don't recognize decides to speak. "We are debating whether to take you home in Arizona with her" he said jerking his thumb to the lady, "Or with Dr. Martinez". "And I don't get a choice in this?", I said it more of as a statement than a question. He paused then said "No." It looked as if he wanted to say more, but decided against it. "Where's Dr. Martinez?", I ask, I mean if I might be living with this person, I have a right to meet her. "She couldn't come", he says vaguely. "So, why am I in here?", I say, annoyed. He merely looked over at the blonde, who went bright red. "I, uh, well, I wanted to, err, negotiate who gets custody of you", she said carefully, pausing to see my reaction, then continued, "And wanted you to be here". I didn't show any sign of anger, or anything. Although on the inside I was growing more dislike towards her. "Who are you", I said, my eyes narrowing slowly. She sat up strait and cleared her throat and said proudly, "Anne Walker." I raised an eyebrow, who does this lady think she is?

Wait.

Never mind.

Please excuse the stupid question.

Anyways, 'Anne' didn't notice my expression, but if she did she chose not to acknowledge it.

Ugh, whatever.

I rolled my eyes at her lack of response and crossed my arms. Everyone else was watching the little exchange. Awkward. "So, are you going to just sit there, cause I'd like to get the hell outta here?", I said, my words directed to the blonde bitch. I could practically _feel _the heat rush up to her face. "So, Anne why do you feel you should have custody of Max?", guy-who's-name-I-still-don't-know cleared his throat and said seriously. "We went over this, Rob", she laughed airily, "I have _much _better qualification to have custody of Max." He closed his eyes, as if trying to be patient. "We went over this: she has more experience, a better record, and better experience with kids," he said, clenching his jaw. Her smile faltered for a moment, but quickly composed herself. "Exactly, she already has _six_ children living with her, and a dog, and she has her carrier to worry about," she responded, acting as if it was so freaking obvious. I want to strangle the bitch. "She thinks she can handle _seven, _as do many others, including myself," he said standing up. He crossed over to a cabinet, and pulled out a file. He flung the file across the desk to Anne, who flinched back. She took the file, and a look of distaste crept on her face. "Oh, this file," she said waving it around wildly, "Is a bunch of lies." Denial. "Look, I need you to face the fact that you aren't qualified to take care of Max, or any child for that matter," he explained slowly. "But-", Anne started, but was cut off. "The only way you'd be able to adopt a child, was if no one else wanted them", he finished sternly. "Wait," I say, an idea occurring to me, "how long will Jeb be in jail?" Please say life sentence. Please say life sentence. Please say- "He'll be staying for 50 years," he, Rob was it, said not meeting my eyes.

Fuck.

Well, I maybe he'll die by then. Its always good to stay optimistic. "So, I'm staying with this Dr. Martinez person, when I'm going?", I question, changing the subject.

I glance at Anne sulking in the corner.

Ha, bitch got told. I wonder if she' s a real blonde. Probably found it more whorish to dye her hair. But I'm not really blonde I just- god, I'm going insane. Talking about _hair. _What a waste of thought. _Max, focus, _I think. Right.

"Now", Rob said standing up.

I follow his lead, stand up, and wait behind him. Right when he opens the door, he stops. He smiles and says, "Oh, hey Valencia.", he says opening the door wider. "Max, meet your new mom, Valencia Martinez."

**A/N: What a Kodak moment, huh? Sorry it took my so long to update, I was trying to make it good. But I won't go on and on about how I hate school, and all. So, review if you want me to update. Do whatever the f yeah want, just review. It's a major priority. **

**Bye. -Jane**


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